


Washed Up Together

by vvitchering (Witchering)



Series: Witcher Prompt Ficlets [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Childhood Sweethearts, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, M/M, waking up together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchering/pseuds/vvitchering
Summary: Eskel runs into Geralt at a festival and they both have a little too much to drink.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Witcher Prompt Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921558
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	Washed Up Together

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill from twitter. Originally it was titled "The Hangover: Witcher Remix" :') I'm very soft for this pairing.
> 
> Please go and check out the absolutely breathtaking illustration by Anna Blume based on this fic:  
> [Washed Up Together](https://twitter.com/annablumedraws/status/1304210477971578884?s=20)

Eskel likes festivals. They’re colorful and lively and food and drink are plentiful. Friendship is offered freely, even to Witchers. It’s not often he indulges himself in local customs, but he’s never been good at denying himself little pleasures. The mead is strong and sweet. It’s made sweeter still by good company. He’s missed Geralt. And if he realizes the White Wolf’s presence is another one of the pleasures he can’t deny himself, that’s between them, isn’t it?

The festivities continue into the night. Eskel’s cup never seems to empty, no matter how much he drinks. Things become soft around the edges. There’s laughter and dancing and colors that bleed together before his eyes. Eskel isn’t even entirely sure what they’re celebrating, although he’s quite sure it doesn’t matter. Between one moment and the next, he slips into the sleep of the well and truly drunk. When he wakes, the sun is high and the scent of honey still saturates the air. 

He’s outside and the ground is cold and hard, but there’s warmth curled at his side. Geralt is asleep, dead to the world and snoring lightly, in his arms. His silvery hair has escaped its tie and it looks pleasingly tousled, spread as it is across Eskel’s chest. Not since they were children together at Kaer Morhen, chasing moments of peace between the horrors, has Eskel seen Geralt look so relaxed. It’s a deceiving scene; Geralt gets hangovers that would knock a troll on its ass after a night of heavy drinking and Eskel tries to remember through his own haze if he has any White Honey on him. 

A sunbeam catches on a gold band adorning Geralt’s finger. Eskel frowns. That hadn’t been there last night, he’s sure of it. He would have noticed. He reaches out to touch it and realizes it’s twin is on his own finger. For a moment he simply stares at their hands, brow wrinkled in thought. And then he pales. Such traditions aren’t popular everywhere on the Continent, but even a fool would be able to recognize the significance and meaning of the two rings. 

Geralt makes a soft noise and stirs, opening golden eyes rimmed with red and immediately squinting against the offensive morning light. Eskel only has a handful of moments before Geralt realizes his head is pounding and becomes impossible. So he asks bluntly. 

“What the hell happened last night?”

Geralt responds with a grunt and burrows closer to escape the sun. It’s quiet for a beat. Eskel can pinpoint the exact moment Geralt notices the ring on his finger. He springs back as if burned and levels an intensely offended look at Eskel, like it hadn’t been just as much his own fault that they had ended up here. 

Married. 

Gods. 

“We can...probably annul it? Can’t be the first time this has happened around here.” Eskel suggests, twisting his ring and trying to look more concerned than he feels. 

His own innate ability to remain calm under stress seems to rub off on Geralt whenever they’re near each other, thank the gods. The panic recedes in the other witcher’s eyes as he processes the lack of negativity in Eskel’s tone. Whatever happened between them the night before, Eskel can’t bring himself to regret it and Geralt seems happy enough to follow his lead.

“Sure, but later, please. My head is killing me.” Geralt finally replies before returning to his warm spot by Eskel’s side. 

“Later, of course. Sleep it off, Wolf.” 

And if later never comes, that’s also between them, isn’t it? 

**Author's Note:**

> The absolutely amazing Anna Blume drew a scene from this fic! You can view it here:   
> [Washed Up Together](https://twitter.com/annablumedraws/status/1304210477971578884?s=20)
> 
> Catch up with me on twitter and tumblr @vvitchering


End file.
